In Love and War
by oliveornothing
Summary: Prince Edmund of Illea, great grandson of Maxon himself, struggles to rule in the wake of a tragedy and the shadow of an impending war. In the growing unrest among his people, he decides to bring back an old tradition, the Selection, in hopes that it will bring his people together, and bring him a true love. *SYOC FEMALE OPEN* Slight AU, pretending the Heir didn't happen.
1. Chapter 1

**In Love and War**

**Chapter One**

Prince Edmund of Illea, hunched over the most recent reports of unrest in the provinces, sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. His desk, usually spotless and neat, was piled high with paperwork.

He screwed his brilliant green eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering just how he got into this mess in the first place. Thinking about that, however, was infinitely more painful than reading the mountain of reports scattered on his desk.

A sharp rap on the door of his study pulled him from his dark thoughts. His chief advisor, Evelyn Rouse, swept into the room, ever so put together with her ebony hair piled on top of her head in a neat updo and her nude heels clicking on his hardwood floors.

"Oh your Majesty, you don't look well at all," she chided, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the disheveled state of his curly red mop of hair, "I think it's time you take a break."

She really did have to stifle a giggle at the sight of his hair, flaming red and sticking every which way.

He eyed her as she crossed the room, suspicious that she would suggest such a thing. She was usually here to crack the whip, urging him to work harder. Honestly, he was convinced she'd be the death of him.

"Really? I should take a break? _You_ are suggesting I take…a break?" He questioned, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, sir. A break."

She had a sort of…pained look on her face, as if the words were causing her physical discomfort to say.

"Alright. Out with it."

She looked startled, "I'm not sure what you mean, your Highness."

"Out with it. What do you want from me? I already know I'm not going to like it, so you might as well just get it over with."

Her face dropped its painful expression and set into a look of grim determination that Prince Edmund had to admit, frightened him.

She took a deep breath and dove right in, "Wellasyouknowthere'sbeen."

"Evie, please. Slow down."

"Um. Aright sire. Very sorry," she stammered.

He'd never seen her so flustered. She was usually the poster child for perfection.

"As you know," she continued, forcing herself to speak slowly, "there's been a lot of unrest in the provinces since your great grandfather, King Maxon, dissolved the castes. The older generations resent the new change and the younger generation resents the old ideas. There's been talk among the palace of civil war and the people are scared, sir."

He ran a hand through his hair. He knew all of this. It had been a rebel attack, part of the older generation that still resented the royal family, that had killed his mother, his father, and his older brother. His whole family, gone in an instant. He would never hunt with his father in the forest of the Angeles province again, never cook down in the kitchens with his mother, who loved to cook with her sleeves rolled back and her auburn hair thrown in a very un-Queenly ponytail, even though there were servants to cook their meals. They loved his mother, both of his parents actually. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He could never be the King his father had been, loving and gentle, but yet firm and unapologetic in his beliefs. The fact that his own people had murdered him made Prince Edmund's eyes sting with anger or sadness; he wasn't sure which.

And his brother. His wise, caring, and perfect brother. Will would have known what to do. He always did.

The trouble was, there were still people in Illea who remembered the caste system. Those who didn't remember were brainwashed by the elders into believing their newfound freedom was just a ploy for the royals to appease them and continue to reign over them with an iron fist. On the other side, the youngest generations believed the royal family wasn't doing enough to secure freedom and equality to all. They believed the prejudice of the caste system remained. They called themselves "the Liberators". The other group stuck with a more…timeless name…and were simply deemed 'the Rebels".

Prince Edmund wasn't so naive to think that the hate and prejudice had just disappeared with the castes themselves. Former Sixes, Sevens, and Eights all struggled to find work, even after so much time had passed. It was easy, the Prince realized, to enact a law. Changing the hearts and the minds of the people was a different matter all together. But on the other hand, he didn't believe they were heading in the wrong direction, as the Rebels believed.

And with the tensions rising in New Asia, he wasn't so sure he could handle it all on his own. New Asia was facing a sort of revolution, like the one he had learned about in history, when the country called America had rebelled against the British. The area called New China wished to become its own, independent country. With the new alliance between Illea and New Asia, the Prince was expected to take a side, but choosing either side, it seemed, would inevitably pull his country into a war he wasn't prepared to fight right now. But hesitate and he could lose the delicate alliance with New Asia and close important trade routes, crippling his country's economy.

"Yes, Evie, I'm doing the best I can. I just…I just can't fix everything all at once."

She swallowed and looked down at her shoes. He hadn't meant to snap at her; his frustration had overwhelmed him and she just happened to be the closest thing to take it out on.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but she was already walking towards the door. She hesitated before reaching the door, took a deep breath, and spun on her heel to walk back to his desk. With a small curtsy, she laid a file on his desk. _More paperwork, he groaned internally._

"Please don't dismiss this outright, your Highness. I'm not just presenting this to you as your advisor, but also as your friend," she said and swiftly made her exit.

Her hasty exit left him eying the file on his desk with caution, almost like he expected it to explode if he touched it. Finally, with a groan, he bit the bullet and opened the file…and groaned again. He threw it back down onto his desk and placed his head in his hands, feeling his short scruff scratch his palms.

The document in the offending file had been an outline, a timeline if you will, of his _Selection._ It proposed that within three short months, thirty-five strange women would move into his home and vie for his hand in marriage. It was a, quite frankly, barbaric tradition that hadn't been practiced since King Maxon's Selection three generations ago. His circle of advisors had suggested it a few times recently and the idea had been outright dismissed on every occasion by Prince Edmund. But times were getting more and more desperate, the people were growing more and more restless. Maybe the people did need a distraction. And Prince Edmund had to admit, he did need a wife, and soon. Without a wife, his position as King was unstable at best. He needed to secure his family line with an heir, which of course was impossible without a wife. He also had to admit that taking a wife from among the people would be a good start in mending the broken relationship between the royals and their subjects. Plus the spectacle and grandeur of such an event would divert people's minds from their troubles, and the possible war that was facing Illea.

The more he thought about it, in fact, the more the idea appealed to him. He had his doubts, of course, but the love story of his great grandfather's Selection was legendary. Why shouldn't it work for his grandson?

Prince Edmund steeled himself and rang for Evelyn. When she entered the study, looking as professional as ever but with a gleam of hope in her eyes, he took one last breath as a free man and sighed, "Fine. I'll do it."

She gasped. She had hoped, but certainly not expected, that he would give in so easily.

He would reflect on those words many years from now and would wonder, laugh even, at how four simple words could change the course of his life so dramatically.

Evelyn, with no time to waste, scurried to make the announcement that the Selection forms and letters were to be sent to all eligible women in Illea immediately. The Selection would begin in three short months, and preparations had to be made.

**A/N: I just want to go ahead and say thanks to everyone who is reading this! This is my first Selection story and my first SYOC! As of right now, I'll be taking 35 girls, but depending on the response I may take less. I also wanted to let you all know I'll be taking the fashion of the Selected and the royals in the direction of a more medieval kind of dress with a modern twist. I LOVE the idea of elaborate ball gowns and such, but there will be modern fashion as well. Thanks again and let me know what you think in the reviews! The form for entries is the next chapter and on my profile. Please PM me with your girls and feel free to add anything you want about your girls that isn't on the form, like if they have connections to someone in the castle, previous relationships, favorite food, country/culture of origin, etc. **


	2. Character Form

**A/N: This isn't a chapter...just the form for your girls! I took this pretty much straight from the first book, when America is filling out her form. Again, please feel free to add anything and please PM me with your entires! This form is also on my profile :)**

**Name:**

**Age:**

**Job:**

**Province:**

**Height:**

**Weight:**

**Hair color:**

**Eye color:**

**Languages spoken:**

**Education:**

**Personality/Background:**

**Special skills:**


	3. Chapter 2

**In Love and War**

**Chapter 2**

The palace had been a flurry of activity in the days since Edmund had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to host a Selection. Each of the ladies' rooms was being prepared, with minimal decoration, as Edmund had requested. He had an idea to make the girls more comfortable when they arrived. A block of rooms on the second floor, right below his own suite, had been set aside for the girls. He walked past them now, their doors open and what seemed like an army of maids fluttering back and forth between them

He looked curiously into each one as he passed, earning hasty curtsies and smiles from the maids within them. He couldn't believe that, in two short months, that this hall would be filled with girls who were fighting to win his hand in marriage.

His mind wandered as he shuffled up the stairs and back to his rooms.

_How am I supposed to do this? How am I going to find love when all I can worry about is appeasing the public? What are the girls going to think of me? How am I supposed to act?_

These were just a few of the questions running through his tired mind today. He knew he should be excited at the chance to find a wonderful woman to be his wife, a queen, but he wasn't. All he could feel was…_anxiety._ He'd never had a serious girlfriend before; he'd never even had his first kiss. He hadn't needed to worry about it. He hadn't been the sole heir to the throne. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he thought about the circumstances that led him to this moment. He wished he could just talk to his mother. She would know exactly what he needed to do, how he needed to act around these women. Although, he knew what she would say.

"Just be yourself, Ed," she would chide, "they're here for _you._ The real you, the one we know and love. Give yourself a chance for once. You are a magnificent catch after all."

With the last statement, she would wink.

This time, the tears did spill over. He didn't have time to think of them often, in all the commotion that followed their deaths. He had arranged the funerals in a daze, ordering flowers, sending notices to diplomats and rulers around the world, preparing the service and the places in the cemetery. Even after the funeral, he'd had to jump right into ruling the country. His father had prepared him, of course. It was customary for the second, sometimes even the third, in line for the throne to join the immediate heir in his or her lessons on politics, governing, history, and the like. What his father hadn't prepared him for was the impending civil war. The people had loved his father, he had been a man of the people, but when the family was killed by rebels, the two warring factions saw the shift in power as a weakness to exploit. Riots broke out in the streets, violent crime rates skyrocketed, and rebel attacks on the palace rivaled those of Maxon's day.

There was also the threat of revolution in New Asia, though it was not as immediate of a threat.

Between everything, Edmund hadn't been able to truly grieve for his family. So, in private moments like this, he was unable to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

After a moment, he straightened his back, wiped away the tears, and composed himself. This was not the time to let his emotions run amuck. He had to appear strong to the people; he needed to be a King they could depend on, like his father had been.

Evelyn burst through the door, almost a moment too soon.

"Your majesty! What are you _doing_ in here?"

She sounded exasperated, "We've been looking for you everywhere! We need your opinion on the dress code, the rules, the daily schedules, the classes, the…"

"Okay, okay. Geez Evie, you're going to give me a heart attack. Just give me the papers and I'll look through them right now."

She handed him a thick file folder and he groaned.

"Oh sire, this is supposed to be an exciting time. A little paperwork never hurt anyone."

"It's hurt me plenty of times, Evie."

She gave him a dirty look, which he returned before opening the file.

First, he skimmed the dress code. He saw that something called a "day dress" was mandatory for informal dates, lunch, breakfast, and just everyday wear. He wasn't exactly sure what that was, but it sounded acceptable to him. Pants were only allowed in private, when horseback riding, and on Sundays. That seemed a little rigid to Edmund, but he didn't know about these things, so if his advisors thought it was a good idea, he would accept it. Finally, formal gowns were to be worn at dinner and all formal events. He quickly wrote in the margins that he would like pants to be allowed on Fridays, unless a formal event was scheduled, then signed the bottom.

He scanned the rules next. They were pretty straightforward. No one could attack, bully, or knowingly cause harm to another Selected. That was a given. They could not date or see anyone other than the Prince. He snorted. That was pretty obvious as well. Selected girls who were eliminated would be required to leave within three hours of their dismissal, if a girl had an emergency at home, she would be given three days leave from the castle, and so on. He saw nothing amiss with the list of rules, but when he reached the section of rules specifically for the Elite, he paused.

He felt the anxiety building again. The thought of eliminating anyone made him panic. He didn't want to hurt anyone, and he _hated_ seeing women cry. He'd been told it ran in his family. He shook his head to clear the thought. He was doing this to find a wife. A single wife. To do that, he would have to eliminated girls.

With a heavy sigh, he signed the list of rules as well.

He quickly signed the schedule, which simply included mealtimes and events that fell in the first month of the Selection. That one he could deal with; it was simple and straightforward. He also signed off on the classes that the Elite would be required to take to prepare them to rule when one was chosen as the Queen. The thought, again, frightened him, but he signed, nevertheless.

"Thank you very much, your majesty."

Evelyn was beaming, very much in her element. She had seen the Prince alone long enough. At 23, she was a just few years older than the Prince herself, but she felt very protective over him. She wished him every happiness, and she hoped the Selection would bring some life back into him, and the palace. And she had to admit, the thought of having so many young women in the palace excited her. She was very young for her position and she was surrounded by older men. It would be nice to have ladies close to her own age here and she hoped to even make a few friends.

"Anytime, Evie," he smiled warmly at her. He would be lost without her constant guidance and, dare he say, nagging.

"Don't forget you have the Report tonight, to announce the Selection. Although it's a bit late, considering the letters are already out, but I suppose there's nothing to be done about that," she sighed dejectedly. Evelyn hated for things to be unproper.

Edmund pinched his lips tightly together to avoid smiling at her theatrics, "You suppose correctly, there is nothing to do about it now."

She gave an inclination of her head and turned to leave, throwing over her shoulder, "The Report starts at 5 o'clock sharp. Don't. Be. Late."

He grinned as she closed the door. He did have a tendency to arrive late to important events and it grieved Evelyn. He made it his goal for the day to arrive early. His advisors would probably drop dead in shock. He gave a short laugh at the thought and rang for an early dinner. It was almost 3 o'clock now and if he was going to be early to the Report, he'd have to start preparing now.

When he'd finished his meal, Edmund leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. For once, in this short moment, there was nothing for him to do. He savored the moment before ringing for his valet to dress him for the report.

"Good evening, your highness."

"Good evening O'Malley," Edmund replied, giving the man a clap on the back.

John O'Malley was young for a valet, being only five years Edmund's senior, but he did excellent work, and he and the prince had become good friends.

O'Malley unzipped a large garment bag and pulled out a suit with a midnight blue jacket, vest, and pants, all complimented with a red bow tie. Edmund was slightly disappointed. It was a very nice suit, but for such an important Report, he was hoping for something a little more…exciting. Something emerald green perhaps, his favorite color. He didn't complain, however, as O'Malley dressed him.

"If you don't mind me asking sir, how are you feeling?" O'Malley asked in his strange lilt. He had told Edmund before that his ancestors were from a place called Ireland. A beautiful, green country Edmund longed to visit.

"Of course I don't mind, O'Malley. And to be quite honest…I don't really know what I'm feeling. Nothing's changing tonight. I don't get to see the girls or announce their names to the world, I'm simply telling the people something that they already know. Ask me that question in a few weeks, after the girls have been chosen and I have to go on the Report to announce them."

"Ah, yes your majesty, I forgot the letters have already gone out to the eligible families. Miss Evelyn didn't seem too happy about that," he chuckled.

"No, I daresay she wasn't happy at all," the Prince smirked.

When he was dressed, his red curls smoothed back with gel, he dismissed O'Malley and headed to the Report Room.

When he walked into the shining lights of the Report Room fifteen minutes early, Evelyn's mouth dropped open in shock and Edmund's face erupted into laughter.

"I'm going to be the king now Evie, did you really think I'd be late?" He questioned, feigning innocence.

"With all due respect, your royal Timeliness," she said teasingly, "you've _been_ the heir to the throne for a while now, and this is the first event you've arrived on time to."

"Um, Evie, I'm _early_," he emphasized.

"Yes, and it's a damn miracle," a deep voice chimed in.

Evelyn and the prince whirled around to see the host of the Report, Wesley Fadaye, descendant of the legendary Gavril, chuckling behind them. He grasped Edmund's hand and shook it warmly, before turning to Evie and planting a brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

"Always lovely to see you, Evelyn."

She blushed and averted his gaze.

Edmund looked suspiciously between the two of them, before dismissing the moment as Wesley's usual flirtation. He cleared his throat and gestured to the stage.

It was Wesley's turn to blush, and he hurried to join the prince.

The bright lights trained on the middle of the stage, where two chairs were set up for Wesley and Edmund, were hot and beating down on the prince. He knew it was just nerves, but he felt as though he was sweating buckets and he was suddenly very aware of the bowtie that was threatening to choke him.

This would be the first Report he had to do in his own.

_At least it's something easy,_ he reminded himself, _the people already know everything you're about to announce._

Too soon, the cameramen were counting down the seconds until the show began.

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1…_

"Good evening, beautiful people of Illea, and welcome to this _very_ special edition of the Report! I'm your host, Wes Fadaye, and the prince and I have a very exciting announcement for you all tonight."

Wes turned expectantly to the prince and he turned on the charm, swallowing his nerves, and replied, "Why, I believe we do Wes."

Turning to the cameras he made his announcement, "In the wake of the tragic attack on my family and the palace, I find myself as the immediate heir to the throne of Illea. Because of this, I also find myself in need of a wife," he paused to wink at the camera, "In response to this, I have decided to bring back a very old tradition, the Selection. All of the families with eligible ladies have received their letters with the enclosed application forms. I encourage all the ladies who received one such letter to apply, as I am very much looking forward to meeting the thirty-five beautiful ladies who will be chosen…one of which who will become my wife."

He turned to Wes again, "I think that's all I've got, Wes."

"Thank you, your majesty. Now we have a just a few questions for you."

Edmund rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, "How did I know you would say that?"

"Probably because your advisors briefed you on it before we started recording," Wes replied, chuckling.

"That would explain it, I suppose," Edmund smiled.

He appreciated that Wes made it feel so easy, like it was just them talking. No cameras, no audience.

"So, your majesty, we're all dying to know…why choose to have a Selection? I'm sure there a few princesses that are fawning over you as we speak."

"I wouldn't go _that _far, Wes," he chuckled, "The Selection is a very old tradition and I know the nation of Illea has fought very hard to break the chains of the castes and of the old ways, but the Selection was almost always a success. So, when my advisors suggested it to me, I dismissed it outright at first, but then I realized, it is kind of romantic."

Edmund grinned sheepishly before continuing, "I need to find a wife for practical reasons, of course, but more than anything, I really do want to find the love of my life. I think the Selection may just help me do that, versus having an arranged marriage to a foreign princess."

Wes could almost hear the sighs of the people watching at home. If there were some girls who were unsure about entering the Selection, they were surely rushing to fill out the forms at this very moment.

"Very good, your Majesty. My next question is: What are you looking for in a wife?"

Edmund knew this question was coming, but he still hesitated.

What _did_ he want in a wife?

"I have to admit, Wes, I'm not entirely sure. That's the beauty of a Selection, I would say. Out of these thirty-five women, no two of them are going to be exactly the same. I'm no expert at this, so honestly, I'll just be waiting to see where my heart leads me."

Wesley almost rolled his eyes at the sappy answer, but he could see the in the prince's eyes; he really was hoping to find his true love, and Wes couldn't find fault in that.

"My last question your majesty," he continued, "What would you like the Selected girls to know?"

Edmund turned again to speak directly to the camera, "Be yourself," he shrugged, "I know that's an old cliché, but I know that's what my mother would say to me if she were here. I want to get to know the real you, and I want you all to get to know the real me. I'm looking for the woman to spend the rest of my life with, and I'm taking this very seriously. That being said, I want you all to be happy here as well. If there's ever anything you need to feel more comfortable, please ask me, or any of the amazing staff we have here at the castle. And if for some reason, you want to leave, all you have to do is ask. But, most importantly, I want you to know how excited I am to meet you all. Good luck to all of you who are entering."

"And that's all we have for you tonight, folks," Wesley clapped his hands together, "tune in three weeks from today at 5 o'clock sharp to see the lovely ladies who will be competing for our lovely Prince Edmund's heart. This is Wes Fadaye and Prince Edmund Shreave, signing off. Goodnight, Illea!"

After exiting the stage, Edmund was greeted by his advisors, who shook his hands and congratulated him for a job well done. He smiled tiredly at them all and exchanged pleasantries.

Evelyn walked back with him to his rooms.

"You did an excellent job tonight, your majesty. I had no idea of your enthusiasm for the upcoming Selection."

"Don't let me fool you, Evie. I'm scared out of my wits, but I will admit that the idea fills me with some hope."

She smiled at him as they stopped in front of his door, "Of course, sire."

She bobbed into a curtsy and retreated from him, calling back to him but not turning around, "Don't forget the meeting at 8 a.m. s_harp_ tomorrow morning to discuss the Halloween ball."

He groaned. The ball would be the first big event in the Selection, but he couldn't think about it just now. He just wanted to sleep.

He collapsed into his bed, dreaming of thirty-five nameless, faceless women who would soon invade his home.

**A/N: Hopefully you got to know the characters a little better in this chapter! I just want to say, I want you all who submit girls to be as involved as you want to be! You can leave a review or PM me about how I'm doing when I write about your character. Also, again, add anything you want me to know to the form I posted today! Favorite colors, songs, their style/fashion preferences, etc. If you want them to have connections to any of the characters I've made, like Evelyn or O'Malley, or anyone you can think of that would be in the castle, I'm open to that as well! Also, since there will be a Halloween ball very soon, feel free to put what you'd like your girl to be for Halloween. If you don't, I'll try to choose a costume I feel best suits their personality! Again, thank you to everyone reading, leave a review and tell me how I'm doing, please submit a girl (Or more than one!), and I'll see you next time! **


	4. Chapter 3

**In Love and War**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

When his alarm shrieked at him through his haze of sleep, King Edmund Schreave found himself wishing for a baseball bat to smash the offending clock to smithereens. He rolled to his side and saw the time: 7:45.

"_Shit!"_ he said to himself, angry that Evelyn was going to be proven right yet again.

He tried to shoot up out of bed, but instead entangled his foot in his soft, grey sheets and face planted on the cold floor. He groaned, wishing he would disappear into the floor and leave all his worried behind. Instead, he_ slowly and carefully_ pushed himself off of the floor and resumed his rush to get dressed and leave for the meeting with his advisors. He threw on a shirt and pants, not caring whether they matched, stuffed his feet in a pair of shoes, hastily brushed his teeth, and practically ran out of his room.

When he reached the meeting room, he was met with amused glances and a smirk from Evelyn, who looked down at her watch with an eyebrow raised. She pressed her lips together tightly and put her hand to her mouth to stop herself from bursting into giggles. Edmund, who was shooting dirty looks at everyone seated around the table, looked like a toddler on his first day back from primary school. His red curls were floppy and untamed, his dress pants were wrinkly, and his shirt was only half tucked in and the buttons weren't lined up with the right holes. She coughed in an effort to stifle the laughter that was bubbling up in her throat. When he turned his head to glare at her, his hair flopped over his eyes and it sent her over the edge. She erupted into laughter, shoulders shaking and struggling for breath.

Prince Edmund pretended to shoot her a warning glare but couldn't stop a grin from breaking out on his face. In truth, he hadn't looked in the mirror before leaving his room, but he could imagine what state his hair was in, and now that he looked down, he could see the mess that was his outfit. With the shred of dignity he had left, he walked, chin high, to his seat at the head of the table.

_Let them make fun_, he thought, trying to surreptitiously tuck his shirt in under the table but failing.

After the emotions in the room were under control, his advisors began to suggest activities for the Selected to take part in. Some included him, others were optional activities for them to take part in that would be in the Women's Room. He had to admit, he ignored the activities that didn't involve him and made a list of those that would, along with his opinion of them. He would compile a list of his favorites during the next week and submit them to the event coordinators. These events, of course, were only group activities. There were endless activities to do on just regular dates.

He jotted down check marks by the activities he was particularly interested in: _painting, cooking lessons, ice skating, speed dating game (?)…_

Listening to all their suggestions, Edmund allowed himself to get excited for the upcoming Selection. Since he'd made the decision to invite thirty-five strange women into the palace, he had spent all of his time preparing the palace, instead of preparing his mental state. He was scared out of his wits, so he wasn't sure how he could be so filled with hope and excitement at the same time. What if he didn't find the women he loved? Or even worse, what if none of them fell in love with him? He felt the throbbing pain of a headache start in the back of his mind, as it usually did when he thought about this.

"Your majesty?"

Evelyn's question broke him out of his thoughts.

"I'm sorry Evelyn, I didn't hear a word you said."

"We'd like you to approve a Christmas ball, in addition to the Halloween ball and a lantern lighting ceremony for the New Year."

Edmund was sure his eyes were bulging out of his head.

_The New Year? _

He'd forgotten how long the Selection could drag on, so he nodded tiredly and waved a hand, "Yes, yes. Whatever you think is best."

Evelyn nodded and scribbled on her clipboard.

After solidifying a few smaller events, he scheduled another Selection meeting with his advisors for a few weeks after the girls would arrive, to talk about the expectations and events for the Elite. The thought was dizzying. Edmund's already broken world was seeming to crumble around him more. His family was gone. He was alone. And he was about to be surrounded by strangers, holding on to the hope that one of them would become his wife.

He needed a drink, and he certainly felt like he deserved one, so he set off towards the kitchens with his jaw set in a grim look of determination.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in the province of Tammins…_

James Hardaway, leader of a Liberator faction in Tammins, was fuming from the Report he had seen just the night before.

He couldn't believe how ignorant the King was. Even more infuriating was how ignorant the King thought the people were. Did he really think they wouldn't notice that he was trying to distract them to keep them quiet?

In King Edmund's defense, most people were delighted at the thought of a Selection and didn't, in fact, see through his motivations, though Jamie would never admit it.

_How dare that airheaded, lousy, useless excuse for a monarch think that he can just hold a Selection, and everything will be magically fixed!_

If anything, in Jamie's mind, the Selection stood for what the Liberators were fighting: the oppression that the people of Illea faced in the past, and what they were obviously still struggling with today. How could anyone think that _parading_ girls in some elaborate competition for the hand of a snotty prince was a good idea?

The Liberators had to do something about it. He wasn't sure what yet, but they would find a way. They always did.

"Yo, Jamie! Seta wants to see you, says she's got an idea to fix your whole Selection problem."

"It's not just my problem, Eli. It's _everyone's problem."_

Eli rolled his eyes and gave a sarcastic salute. He certainly didn't see anything wrong with having a Selection, but he'd never tell Jamie that.

Despite his annoyance with Eli, he was intrigued. Seta was a smart woman and, most importantly, dedicated to the cause.

"Just send her in whenever, Eli"

The small Liberator faction in Tames was based in Jamie's house and the three members of his inner circle, Eli, Seta, and Nick, lived with him in the two-story home. It was much comfortable than the camps that larger factions were based out of, and the house was much less likely to draw suspicion from local authorities. Jamie was in his office now, which was located on the first floor, adjacent to the groups common space.

A rap on his door alerted him to Seta's entrance. He gestured for her to sit down.

"Send me in, sir," she said in her low, raspy voice, offering no further explanation.

"I'm sorry Seta, but what the hell are you talking about?"

"The Selection, Jamie. I'll do it."

Jamie almost barked a laugh but decided against it. Seta could probably kill him as soon as it left his chest. Instead, he forced himself to think it through. Seta was a very beautiful woman. She was a tall, exotic beauty, with caramel-colored skin, dark hair, and golden eyes. She wouldn't have any trouble attracting the prince with her looks. However, she was also…a little rough around the edges. Definitely the opposite of the refined, polite, and frankly naïve, women that would be entering the Selection. She definitely wouldn't be the prince's pet, whether she was pretending or not. Jamie swore she was the model for whoever invented the phrase "if looks could kill". And it was also important to note that she could _actually _kill someone, in a hundred different ways.

"Seta, I appreciate your dedication, but even if you did enter, there's no way to guarantee that you'd be chosen as one of the Selected."

"We have connections at the castle," she murmured quietly.

"Not the kind that could rig the Selection, Seta."

"I'm willing to take the risk, sir. And I'm sure I could convince others to put their names in. We'd at least have a chance."

"There are other reasons. The rebels already tried that with Kriss Ambers, during Maxon's Selection. It didn't work."

"It almost did. From what I hear, Queen America was certainly one of a kind. I don't think I'd have it quite so hard as Kriss."

"I'll think about it, Seta," he started, "actually. Send the form in. If you get in, you get in. If you don't, that's the end of it."

She nodded, stood and saluted, and left the room.

Jamie didn't really think Seta's idea was a great one, but the chances of her getting chosen were so small that he wasn't worried about it. It was better to let her have her way.

_But…_

She had given him another idea. The Liberators, more specifically him and Eli, or maybe him and Nick, could infiltrate the castle another way. They might not have the right contacts to rig the Selection, but Jamie was sure that he could get a couple people into the castle as guards, maybe even Seta as a maid. They would be on the inside, the first people to know about the events at the castle and the actions of the royals. Well, royal.

_Yes,_ he thought, _thank you Seta._

Now, he just had to get the ball rolling. He pulled some paper and a pen out of his desk and began to write. He had to get a letter to his contacts as soon as possible if they were going to get into the castle by the time the Selected girls arrived. He could've made a call, but those were more easily traced and monitored. It would be safer to just send a letter, with instructions to burn it after it was received and read.

When he was satisfied with his letter and his instructions for its disposal, he placed it in an envelope and sealed it. He allowed himself a smirk. The 'lovely King Edmund' wouldn't know what hit him.

He swept into the common area with a flourish.

"I have an announcement to make. Seta, stop filling out that form. I've found a better use for you."

Seta, Eli, and Nick all gave him startled glances. They hadn't seen him so _jovial_ in a long time. Eli was raising an eyebrow at him in his typical fashion, Seta was side-eyeing him, and Nick looked bored already.

"I have decided that we are_ all_ going to the Selection. Well, except for one of us. Nick and Eli, you guys get to fight over who gets to stay and hold down the fort."

"But Jamie, you just told me to stop with the form," Seta was looking at him like he was an idiot.

"You're not going as a Selected, dummy. You're going as a maid," he said, proud of himself for thinking of the idea.

"A MAID? To kiss the asses of thirty-five, empty headed, _children_ fighting over a lousy King?"

"Oh, so you'd rather just kiss the arse of the King?" Eli chimed, in his Scottish lilt.

"Yes, Seta, a maid. And it won't be all thirty-five girls, just one. And don't be so cheeky, Eli. You and I will be going as guards."

Jamie had made the decision in that moment to leave Nick behind, not of any fault of his own, but truthfully, Nick was more level-headed, and Jamie trusted him more to take care of things here. He wanted Eli where he could keep an eye on him.

He received groans from both Seta and Eli, but Nick shot him a grateful smile.

Jamie ignored their protests and shot out the door to post the letter before they could question him any further. As the sunshine hit his face when he stepped outside, he realized this was the first time he'd had any hope in a while. The thought lightened his steps and he whistled a tune while he walked down the street.

There were things to be done.

* * *

_Back at the palace…_

The honorable King Edmund was sufficiently drunk. Well, maybe not drunk, but definitely _tipsy._ He jaunted down the halls, singing himself a merry tune and waving to every servant he passed. His worries about the Selection were officially at the back of his mind.

He stumbled out into the garden, seeking the fresh air, sweetened by the smell of thousands of blooms. He couldn't recall how long he had spent in the kitchens, but by now the sun was setting and streaks of orange stretched across it like fire. He smiled dreamily at the sky, feeling deliciously carefree for the first time in a very, very long time. He simply couldn't imagine why he didn't do this all the time. He was soon distracted by a bright blue butterfly that fluttered past him. He followed it, holding out his hands and swiping at it before it flew away. He giggled each time he missed it and even through the haze of his mind, he was startled by the sound. He didn't _giggle._

His shoulders slumped as he watched the butterfly disappear further into the garden. Everything beautiful in his life left, it seemed.

It was a sobering thought. Almost.

His reverie was broken by the piercing sound of Evelyn's usually musical voice.

"Your majesty! Where have you been all day? We've all been worried sick."

He gave her a lazy smile, "I've jush been enjoying all the _beautiful _shights around the cashtle."

He hiccupped. Okay, he wasn't tipsy. He was drunk.

Evelyn's eyes went wide and she put a hand over her mouth. She'd never seen the prince drink more than a glass of wine in one sitting, and here he was, playing in the garden, soused. She was too shocked to find the situation funny. He was still giving her that goofy smile, with his eyes half closed.

"Sir," she sputtered, "you're _drunk!_"

She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Noooooo. _You're _drunk, Evie. I'm a prince, I don't get drunk."

He startled her by tapping on her nose to emphasize his statement. She jerked her head back, and he began to laugh hysterically.

She waited patiently for him to stop, but he continued, doubled over and shoulders shaking. She was afraid he was going to fall over and she wouldn't be able to carry him. She could ask a guard, but she didn't want everyone knowing about this. She was sure Edmund had already caused enough damage in that department.

"Okay Ed, it's time to get you up to your room. I'm sure you're getting sleepy, aren't you?"

"Well, Evie, my dear, now that you menshion it, I am rather shleepy."

"I thought so."

"You alwaysh take shuch good care of me, Evie," he mumbled tiredly as she deposited him into his bed and pulled the covers over him. He'd have a terrible headache in the morning.

"That's my job, sir. Plus, we are friends, you and I. I'll be here for you, I promise. Don't think I don't know what your drunken _escapade_ is all about. They're going to love you, I just know it. And you can be sure that we _will _be talking about this in the morning. Your hangover is going to be the least of your worries," she warned.

Then she realized he was already snoring softly. She let out a small chuckle. He really had no idea how fundamentally _good_ he was. He was worried about the Selection, she knew, but she also knew that he had nothing to worry about. She didn't have many friends, but she counted him as her closest one, and she knew in her heart that he would find his wife. She didn't know how she knew, but she did.

She shut the light off on her way out and closed the door quietly.

Edmund was going to be miserable in the morning and he deserved every minute of it, she thought.

And she was right.

Ed woke up in the morning with a pounding headache. His tongue was dry, and his limbs felt like they were made of lead. He stumbled to the bath, swearing he'd never drink again. As he ran the scorching hot water into the tub, he struggled to remember what he'd done last night. He vaguely remembered being in the garden and that Evie had helped him upstairs.

_Evie. Oh Lord, I am in so much trouble._

He groaned aloud, the noise rattling around in his already throbbing head.

He eased into the bath, letting the hot water ease the stiffness from his arms and legs.

On the bright side, Edmund was fairly sure he got all of the panic out of his system last night. He had allowed himself to surrender to his worries and get lost in a bottle, so now it was time to throw his fears aside and focus on the positive. The worry was still there, but he now felt like he was in control of it, not like it was controlling him. He grabbed onto the tendril of hope in the back of his mind like a lifeline.

He may have been ready to face the Selection, but he was _not _ready to face Evie.

The knock on his door almost made him jump out of his skin.

* * *

**A/N: So, kind of a filler chapter this time, except to introduce our Liberator friends. I hope you guys are getting to know our Ed better, and Evie. I can't wait to start the Selection! Remember, the form is in my profile…pm me with your girls. See you next chapter!**


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